


Artorias's Fall

by Jesonomi



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesonomi/pseuds/Jesonomi
Summary: Entering the fog gate, that cutscene right before you fight him, a cut voice line, and a short moment after.





	

He approaches the white light, pausing only to take a sip from an Estus Flask. The gate’s vapor grasps out, writhing in the pain suffered by the souls that make it up. Well aware of the dangers usually behind these barriers, the Chosen Undead puts up his shield as he traverses through the wall of light.

Off in the distance stands an Oolacile Resident. The Chosen has no time to react before the Resident’s head is impaled with a greatsword. The wielder is easily twice the size of the Chosen One, and it briefly lifts the sword to plunge it down again, silencing the Resident of its gibberish. Heavy breathing echoes from inside the helmet as it turns toward the entrance.

The Chosen Undead raises his shield up in a hurry, having been distracted by the carnage. A line from the Darkroot Woods dances across his thoughts.

“The legend of Artorias art none but a fabrication.”

The air begins to ripple as darkness swarms to the Abysswalker, forcing a groan out of him before the murk erupts in a faint howl. Any semblance of awareness disappears as Artorias pivots in a circle, drawing his sword from the earth, the Resident still impaled on the end. His left arm hangs in front, swinging with the movements. There is only a minor pause before he lunges forward a step, hurling the corpse off his blade with a swing.

With a roll, the Chosen evades the attack, recovering with just enough time to evade Artorias’s leaping strike. The battle begins.

\------------------

The final strike is done and what’s left of Artorias gives out a chilling roar as he falls, his sword driven deep into the ground by his weight. A whisper is all that’s left as he disintegrates into souls.

“I beg of thee, the spread of the Abyss…must be stopped.”

The Chosen Undead has long since become used to parting lines, but did not expect there to be a mind still capable of rational thought within the darkness. In instinctive surprise, he looks around and is further surprised to see a cloaked figure. She is seemingly praying at a small shrine covered with a few flowers. He approaches.

“…You, is that not…the soul of the man who fell on this spot?”

**Author's Note:**

> (2013)


End file.
